скачать книгу бесплатно
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Mandy is happy where she is.”
“I’ll go get your luggage.” He disappeared back the way they’d come.
Elizabeth settled on the bed and touched her healing incision. Just three days ago she’d arrived in Glenwood, hoping to make a fresh start. Many things hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned, but they were getting better. She could feel it. She had to get on with her life. It was the only way to put the past behind her.
* * *
Travis looked at the empty plate on the table, then at Elizabeth. “Are you done?”
She laughed and patted her stomach. “Yes, thanks. It was wonderful. Here you had me believe you didn’t know how to cook.”
“I’m okay with omelets,” he said, and carried the plates over to the counter. “And I know my way around a barbecue, but other than that, it’s just me and the microwave.”
“I can make French toast,” Mandy announced proudly from her place opposite her mother.
“I know, darlin’. You made it for me this morning.”
“How long did it take you to clean up the mess?” Elizabeth asked.
Travis rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “About an hour.”
She looked at him and smiled. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“I found eggshells everywhere.”
“He ate four pieces,” Mandy said.
“Good,” Elizabeth said, but he could see she was more tired than enthused. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her smile wasn’t as bright as it had been that morning when he’d brought her to the house.
He wiped his hands and turned toward the table. The kitchen had been the first room he’d remodeled. That had been before Julie had left. She’d picked out the cream tiles edged in blue flowers, and she’d been the one to insist on bleached oak cabinets. He’d wanted a more traditional kitchen but he had to admit her taste had been better than his. The rectangular room was bright and airy, despite an overabundance of storage and the large subzero refrigerator and six-burner range.
“Mandy, let’s put your mama to bed. Then you can help me clean up.”
“But it’s early yet,” Elizabeth said.
“You’re dead on your feet.”
“I can’t be. After you left, I had a nap. I’ve only been up for—” she glanced at her watch “—three hours.” She punctuated her observation with a yawn.
Mandy laughed. “You’re tired, Mommy.”
“I guess I am.” Elizabeth braced her arms on the table and slowly pushed herself to her feet. Travis moved closer, but she waved him off. “I made it to the kitchen under my own power, I think I can make it back.”
“Have it your way.”
She took small steps. Mandy dogged her heels, and he brought up the rear, ready to jump to the rescue in case she slipped. Her nap wasn’t the only thing she’d done while he was gone all afternoon. She’d also showered and changed clothes.
The shorts and tank top had been replaced by a loose-fitting summer dress. It dipped low in front and back and, as he had served his famous vegetable omelet, he got a flash of cleavage. He hadn’t seen where the tan ended and her pale skin began, but the peek had more than stirred his interest. He’d spent most of dinner giving himself a stern talking-to.
Elizabeth was his guest. Despite his claim to want to be paid for the room, he would no more take her money than he would hurt Mandy. He was simply temporary shelter and the only friend she had in town. He couldn’t take advantage of her, or the situation. It wasn’t right. If he wanted a woman, there were plenty in town to oblige him. He’d never once had a problem finding company.
As she turned down the hallway, the last rays of sun caught the thick braid hanging down to her shoulder blades. Her hair gleamed with rich color, brown and gold with a hint of red, so different from Mandy’s pale blond hair. Had Elizabeth’s hair once been that color, turning darker with age, or had Mandy inherited her hair color from her father?
They reached the bedroom. Elizabeth sank onto the bed and smiled at her daughter. “I’m going to rest here for a few minutes before I get ready to sleep. Why don’t you kiss me good-night now and then go help Travis in the kitchen.”
Mandy reached up and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, too, honey.”
“I’m glad you’re not in that old hospital anymore. Tomorrow can you come upstairs and look at my room?”
“We’ll see.” Elizabeth stroked her daughter’s head, then glanced at Travis. “Thanks for everything. I really appreciate it.”
“Just being neighborly,” he said from his place in the doorway.
“Hardly, but I do appreciate everything.” She motioned to the room, and then smiled at her daughter. “I don’t know what I would have done—”
He cut her off. “All you should worry about now is getting better. Leave the rest of it alone. Come on, Mandy. Your mother needs to sleep.” He held out his hand.
Mandy looked from him to her mother. “But, Travis, aren’t you going to kiss Mommy good-night, too?”
Chapter Four (#ulink_4a22f678-baeb-57a9-9324-f7c2452b5c29)
Elizabeth looked up at him, obviously startled. Her big eyes got bigger and her lips parted slightly with surprise. But she hadn’t flinched.
He pushed off the door frame and slowly approached the bed. Her gaze never left his. “I do my best work under pressure,” he drawled.
“I’ll bet,” Elizabeth muttered, then looked away. “Look, you don’t have to—”
“Mommy, you need to be kissed good-night,” Mandy said, and bounced on the bed. “It’ll make you feel better. Travis made me feel better when he gave me a kiss. I didn’t have even one bad dream last night.”
“Simply medicinal,” he said.
“What’s mecidinal?” Mandy asked, struggling with the strange word.
He didn’t take his gaze off Elizabeth’s face. Color steadily climbed her cheeks. She glanced at him, at Mandy, at her fingers twisting together in her lap. He approached the bed and bent over.
“It means doing something for medical purposes,” he said. “Like taking medicine.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders. Their eyes met. Mandy asked another question, but he couldn’t hear all the words. Elizabeth’s irises were a pure brown, almost chestnut colored. Her sweet breath fanned his face. His stomach tightened in anticipation, which, he told himself, was stupid. She’d just had major surgery, her six-year-old daughter sat inches away. He was simply going to give her a quick peck on the cheek. So what was the big deal?
But he didn’t kiss her cheek. He moved his head to the left side of her face, but at the last minute veered back and brushed his mouth against hers.
He’d expected some kind of attraction. He was a healthy single male, and she was damned good-looking. But he hadn’t expected to get third-degree burns from the heat.
The contact, lasting no more than one or two seconds, seared his mouth and sent flames of need racing through his body. Instinctively, his hands tightened on her shoulders. Her arms reached up toward him. He felt them whisper by his sides then fall back. He wanted to haul her to her feet and pull her firmly against him. He wanted to feel her body pressing along his, thighs brushing, hips rotating, chest to breast in exquisite delight.
“Don’t you feel better, Mommy?” Mandy asked.
He raised his head. Elizabeth’s eyes were wide and unfocused as if she, too, had felt the conflagration. She swallowed and looked away. But not before he’d seen the answering desire in her gaze.
“Much,” she answered, her voice low and husky. She cleared her throat. “I do feel better. Thank you.”
Travis stared down at her. Who was this woman and what had brought her to Glenwood? Why was there no one, no man, for her to call in her time of trouble? He took a step back and fought a grin. Not that he minded the fact that she was single and in his house. If anything, their kiss had shown him the next three weeks could be very interesting. But why was she alone?
“Come on, Mandy,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let’s let your mom get some rest. I rented a movie for us to watch.”
“Okay.” Mandy jumped off the bed and gripped his fingers. “Night, Mommy.”
“Night, sweetie,” she said, and smiled at her little girl. Her gaze raised to the middle of his chest and stopped. “Good night, Travis. Thank you for…everything.”
Yeah, he couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss either, he thought. “Get some rest.” He led Mandy from the room and closed the door behind them.
A large sofa with a matching chair in soft ivory leather sat in front of an oversize television. Mandy released him and ran over to the VCR. Expertly she pulled the rented tape from its protective cover and inserted it in the machine. Her chatter made him smile, but he had trouble concentrating on her words. He couldn’t stop thinking about Elizabeth Abbott. He was sure there was a logical explanation for everything that was going on, but some sixth sense whispered there was a mystery.
As he sat on the sofa and Mandy climbed onto his lap, he mentally listed what he knew about Elizabeth and her daughter. It wasn’t much. He was too good a lawman to let anything that intriguing go unsolved. If Elizabeth wouldn’t cooperate and answer some questions, he was going to have to find out on his own.
* * *
Elizabeth got coffee going before her exhaustion and the pain in her side forced her to retreat to the kitchen table. She sank into one of the bleached oak chairs. She’d hoped the doctor had been kidding when he’d told her to stay off her feet for a week. Apparently not. He’d reminded her that despite all the improvements in medical technology, the fact was she’d had her tummy cut open, through all the muscles. There were multiple layers of tissues to heal. She hadn’t realized how much she used those muscles until she tried to move around and they reminded her they weren’t working well. She pressed her hand against her side and shifted on the chair. Maybe she would just sit here for a while.
She drew in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the brewing coffee. At least she’d accomplished something. She smiled. Maybe later, when she’d gathered her strength, she would get wild and attempt toast.
“What are you smiling about, darlin’?”
That voice. It made her think of something warm and rich and decadent slowly slipping through her fingers. It made her think of liquid satin on bare skin. It made her think of last night and their brief kiss. She turned to look at him.
Travis stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen him out of uniform before. Her gaze traveled from his scuffed black cowboy boots up the long, lean length of his legs. Worn jeans, faded with lines of white radiating out from the seams by his hips and crotch, clung with the familiarity of an old lover. A red polo shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders, emphasizing his muscles. He looked powerful, but more than that he made her think of a dependable man, a hard worker. His watch was black, some sports kind with a couple of buttons. He didn’t wear any rings or other jewelry. Except for the glint in his dark brown eyes and his teasing smile, there wasn’t anything flashy about him.
Solid, she thought. That’s the word she’d been looking for. Travis Haynes was a solid man.
He took a step into the kitchen. His gaze moved over her face, pausing on her mouth long enough for the tingling to start in her toes and work its way up. Last night she’d lain awake in the dark reliving the brief touch of his lips on hers. It had been nothing significant. A teasing kiss instigated by her daughter. So why did she wonder what it would be like to be held in those powerful arms and pulled hard against that solid chest? Why was her heart beating faster and her breasts tightening in anticipation? Nothing had happened and nothing was going to happen. It couldn’t. She knew better than to get involved.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, strolling over to check the coffee. The pot had stopped sputtering. He opened the cupboard above the machine and pulled out two mugs.
“I don’t remember what I was smiling about.” Her voice sounded completely normal, she thought with some relief.
“How do you take it?”
“With milk, please.”
He stirred her coffee and handed her the mug, then took the seat opposite her. “How did you sleep?”
“Great. I feel better.”
“You’re supposed to be staying off your feet.”
“I know. I just wanted some coffee, and I didn’t know what time you got up.”
She felt a little awkward talking about the intimate details of living together. She barely knew Travis. She tilted her head toward the table, then glanced up at him through her lashes. She liked the way his hair curled slightly around his ears, and the trimmed mustache outlining his upper lip. Last night she’d felt the faint tickle of his mustache against her skin. She wondered what that soft, groomed hair would feel like—
The back door opened, cutting off her dangerous train of thought.
“Yoo-hoo, Travis, are you up?” a loud female voice called.
He grinned. “If I wasn’t, Louise, I would be now.”
A woman entered the kitchen. She was in her mid to late forties with short blond hair and a figure that could only be described as an hourglass. Her pants were a bright lime green color, her short-sleeved blouse a blend of greens, yellows and oranges. A wide gold belt emphasized her small waist, while a trio of silver chains dipped toward her generous bosom. Dark eye shadow and lots of mascara highlighted her blue eyes. Her red lipstick clashed with everything, but somehow looked all right.
“You must be Elizabeth,” Louise said, moving forward and holding out her hand. “Your daughter is the sweetest little girl.” She smiled and her eyes got a faraway look. “Maybe I should have had children.” She paused. “No, I think Alfred is more than enough trouble, don’t you?”
“Alfred?” Elizabeth asked as they shook hands. “Your husband?”
Louise laughed. “No, my dog. Hi, I’m Louise.”
Elizabeth didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or laugh back. She settled on smiling weakly. Louise bent over and gave Travis a kiss on the cheek, then moved to the refrigerator and started pulling out food.
“Louise is my housekeeper,” Travis said.
“I figured that.”
“She works here three days a week—”
“But I’m willing to come in more while you’re getting better, Elizabeth,” Louise said, cutting Travis off. “When I heard what happened, well, I just had to rush over and do whatever I could to help.” She set a pitcher of orange juice on the counter. “Maybe you would like to work on some crafts while you’re recovering. I’m thinking of doing something with clay.”
“Absolutely not,” Travis said. “There will be no clay in this house.”
Louise mumbled something under her breath about men being pinheads.
Travis leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Louise is going through a stage right now.”
The chesty blonde glared at him. “I can hear every word you’re staying and this is not a stage. I’m exploring my art.”
“She’s driving me crazy. She makes things and gives them to me.”
“It’s a sign of affection, but if you’d rather I didn’t, then fine.” She slammed the refrigerator door shut and turned her back on them.
“I have this drawer full of sweaters and socks.”
Elizabeth stared at him. “Why is that a problem?”
“They’re not—” he glanced from her to Louise and back “—normal. Most of the socks have no heel. The sweaters aren’t anatomically correct.”
Louise walked over to the table and grinned. “I’ll admit I didn’t quite get the hang of knitting. I never could figure out parts of the patterns, but some of the wool was real lovely.” She held two eggs in her right hand. “How would you like them cooked?”
Elizabeth blinked several times. “Scrambled?”
“Fine.” She glanced at Travis. “I know what you want, but the way you’ve talked about me this morning, I’m of a mind to let you go hungry.”
